Editorial: The Children Are Alright

Editorial- Fantastic Mr. Fox - Classiq Journal
 

The Editorial: thoughts, short stories
or essays about the world of cinema


 
Talking about the book Fantastic Mr. Fox, on which he based his film by the same name, Wes Anderson said in the book-length interviews with Matt Zoller Seitz: “Roald Dahl really did have a knack for seeing from a child’s point of view. The details he focuses on and vividly describes are just the ones that might most fully and directly capture a child’s attention and inspire a child’s imagination. Or it might just be that his books show a true interest in the things that make children laugh and frighten them. He never particularly held himself back from the extremely scary or disgusting things. He had such a broad imagination and would turn some real-life inspiration into something fabulous. He also had this tremendous facility with inventing characters, and he could just weave a plot that was real.”

Continuing to talk about Dahl, Zoller Seitz tells an incredulous Anderson how Dahl is not persisting, and that he senses on the part of other parents a bit of hesitancy in exposing kids to the author’s books in America because there’s a whole movement toward making the world of childhood as comfortable, bright, and cheery a place as it can possibly be, and Dahl is the opposite of that.

Really? Asks Anderson, more and more surprised by what he hears.

Really? I am asking, too.

Unfortunately, yes. Zoller Seitz is not the only one who has noticed this movement. Parents have started to stop reading traditional tales to their children because they are considered too scary, violent or because they discriminate women or certain minorities. And I want to ask: Where exactly is this censorship going? What are they reading to them instead? Only new fiction written especially to accommodate every opinion, carefully composed so that it does not offend anybody? This is not art, it is not artistic expression, it is not imaginative literature, it does not ignite children’s imagination, it does not teach them right from wrong, it does not broaden their minds. Quite the contrary. And I think it’s one of the greatest wrongs we can do to our children.
 
 
Fantastic Mr. Fox illustration  
 
Old-school fairy tales — stories by authors such as Hans Christian Andersen, Oscar Wilde, Grimm Brothers, CS Lewis, J.M Barrie, or Andrew Lang — are filled with a richness and complexity that is often missing from the modern-day children’s books. I know. I have been reading my three-and-a-half-year-old son both classic and modern children’s books and there is not much that makes my mind wander off when I read modern books to him. The language is so less complex and captivating. My son also asks a lot fewer questions and about a lot fewer new words than when he hears a traditional fairy tale. And just to make it clear (and I believe it’s a pity that we’ve come to a time when we have to explain these things), Hans Christian Andersen didn’t write “The Little Mermaid” to teach little girls how to marry a prince, but to warn us that our actions have consequences. I have read that “Snow White” is considered discriminatory to dwarfs. What part of the story exactly does that, may I ask? It’s from fairy tales that I learned, as a child, that there are all kinds of physical diversities; fairy tales have taught me not to judge based on class provenance, physical appearance or cultural differences. There are so many layers in a fairy tale that help you understand human kind and ourselves. A child can see both the mystery and truth in such stories. As Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller explained, “Deeper meaning resides in the fairy tales told to me in my childhood than in any truth that is taught in life.”

Let’s stop being so politically correct, for God’s sake! For the good of our children! Fairy tales nurture moral behaviour and show children the strengths and weaknesses inherent in human nature, by contrasting good and evil, rich and poor, vanity and valour. By exposing children to these stereotypes of good and bad, you provide them with a moral code on which to start to develop their own lives.
 
 
Fantastic Mr. Fox illustration  
 
Yes, fairy tales may tackle difficult issues, but they prepare kids for life in the real world, they teach them to deal with inner dilemmas, they teach them not to shut their feelings in. Like life, some fairy tales don’t have happy endings. Bad things do happen. Children must learn that life comes with good and bad, with joy and sadness, with growth and loss. We must read stories with our kids, of all kinds, and talk about them. As C. S. Lewis believed, “sometimes fairy stories say best what needs to be said.”

A few months back, my son was treated badly by an older boy in the park. I wasn’t with him, my husband was. He didn’t cry or seemed affected in any disturbing way, but he was surprised that another child could treat him badly. I was worried about the incident and didn’t know how exactly to handle it when we talked about it at home, wondering if I should try to find a plausible explanation for the ugly behaviour of the other kid. That his parents did not teach him how to behave, that’s not a plausible explanation. I then talked to my parents. “Stop trying to control what you can not control and stop trying to protect him and telling him life is always beautiful and cheerful,” they said. “It’s not. It’s good for him to know that people are good and bad and that he is not one of the bad. Take it as a lesson. If you seek to protect him from all unpleasant events, you do not equip him to deal with the real world.” Of course, they are right.

Fairy tales also allow kids to learn how to deal with scary situations. Kids see how the characters face their fears and learn from their experiences. They help children to understand the flaws of human behaviour and their own emotional dilemmas and to accept many of their own fears and emotions, without developing frustrations, in an imaginative way.

But I guess the most extraordinary thing about fairy tales is that they introduce children to the genre of fantasy. Fairy tales help develop their creativity and imagination. That’s one of the most precious things a child has and we should foster that imagination from as early on to as later on in their lives as possible. “When we are no longer children, we are already dead.” (Constantin Brâncuși).

Furthermore, fairy tales pave the road for more reading later on in their lives. The human kind has no future without culture and education. Let’s start by continuing to read to our children as much as possible, and to read them classic fairy tales. They’ll be alright.
 
 
Fantastic Mr. Fox
 
image from “Fantastic Mr. Fox” (2009) | illustrations by Quentin Blake

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A One Woman’s Homage to the Flyer’s Jacket

Kristin Scott Thomas in The English Patient - The flying jacket
Hers is the glamour of an adventurer who stirs your imagination with her game-changing style, while learning to love Africa. In Anthony Minghella’s The English Patient (1996), Kristin Scott Thomas plays Katharine Clifton, a British who goes to Northern Africa with her husband (Colin Firth) on a desert expedition. I will not say much about the film, just that it is overly sentimental, too long and with an unfulfilling ending for my own taste, and that I totally understood Elaine’s ordeal in Seinfeld when she had to watch it again unwillingly. However, I did watch it again a little while ago, at my own free will, but I did it just for Kristin Scott Thomas’ flyer’s jacket look (hazards of the job I guess).

Style in Film - Kristin Scott Thomas in The English Patient
In her suede aviator jacket, pleat-fronted trousers, white shirt and earth-toned scarves, Katharine may be channeling aviator Amelia Earhart. It is one of the film looks that will endure over time and there is a lot we can take from it any given day. The colour scheme – beautiful browns, raging from chocolate and caramel, to camel, tan and milky beige (in the image above, Katharine and Almásy (Ralph Fiennes), dressed in sand-hued clothes, seem to blend with the desert). The fabrics – natural fibres, very practical and necessary in the African heat (it’s in utilitarianism that resides the endurance of any clothing item), like linen, cotton and wool. But, most of all, it’s that timeless, androgynous, modern silhouette: the aviator jacket over white shirt, and oversized trousers. Masculine-inspired and bold and supremely self-confident, very Katharine Hepburn. It looks casual and simple and easy and natural. But it’s enigmatic and seductive, too. “A woman wearing a man’s overcoat as she walks along the street is much more sensual than one wearing an evening dress,” said Giorgio Armani. I second that.

Kristin Scott Thomas in The English Patient
I often write about men’s style in film. Because an innate sense of style seems to run amok among our male counterparts, because men’s style stands the test of time much better than women’s and because I myself have a fondness for menswear basics. Whether it’s Robert Redford in Three Days of the Condor, James Dean in Rebel without a Cause or Steve McQueen in Bullitt, men’s style simply ages better. But I have to admit that whenever a woman is channeling a men’s style well, hardly anything beats that. It happened with Kelly McGillis in Top Gun (can you seriously think of a better look than a bomber jacket with a pencil skirt?) and Lauren Hutton in American Gigolo, and, in this case, Kristin Scott Thomas in The English Patient. She is not merely channeling masculine style, her flyer’s jacket is worn like a public declaration of her femininity, one that it is well aware of her innate power.

A one Woman homage to the flying jacket - Kristin Scott Thomas in The English Patient
There is a red patterned shawl that Katharine wraps herself in now and then. I like that splash of colour, maybe hinting at the fact that, underneath those neutral colours that can hide her emotions, she is in fact in search of a certain kind of freedom and of romance, and she came to Africa to find it. “Up in this air you breathed easily, drawing in a vital assurance and lightness of heart. In the highlands you woke up in the morning and thought: Here I am, where I ought to be.” (Karen Blixen, Out of Africa)

The leather jacket - Kristin Scott Thomas in The English Patient

photos: film stills from The English Patient | Miramar, Tiger Moth Productions

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Editorial: American Comedy

The editorial - Sullivan's Travels 

The Editorial: thoughts, short stories
or essays about the world of cinema


 
The extraordinary thing about classic American comedies, and, by that, of course, I refer to the likes of Lubitsch, Capra, Cukor and Sturges, or Howard Hawks’ His Girl Friday and Bringing Up Baby, Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot and Gregory La Cava’s My Man Godfrey (I will write about Chaplin and Buster Keaton another time), is that you can predict from the very beginning how it will end, and yet, their style is captivating – unexpected ideas, the wildest fast-talking farces and the most comical details in the story are possible. Ironically, Preston Sturges’ own yearning to make a ‘significant’ picture later proved part of his professional downturn. I myself often disregard what otherwise could qualify as a very good movie if it weren’t for the happy ending. Maybe that’s why Billy Wilder’s The Apartment is one of my all-time favourite films. It is one of the finest satirical comedies, different from the formal plot of romantic comedies, old and new. It has subtlety and an adult sensibility, which is what makes the story so good and poignant and real. The beauty and strength of the movie come from the fact that it shows that life comes with good and bad, you can’t have one without the other.

But, still, what is it about the majority of classic comedies that still attracts me despite the predictable ending? I guess I like the exercise of style and sophistication a classic comedy exerts. Often, the first hour of a comedy, even the whole movie right up until the end, is such an unhindered display of creativity and craft, as if the director and writer gave complete reign to their imaginations, to being silly without forgoing wit and a lightness of touch. Not to mention the shrewdness and effervescence of screwball comedies, and the fact that romance always comes second to comedy in a screwball, which is why I always prefer it to romantic comedies.

But what I want to point out is that I think comedies are often underrated. There is that famous line in Sullivan’s Travels (1941) when Joel McCrea’s character, after he has been mistaken for a tramp, arrested and put to work on a chain gang and he finds himself watching a comedy with the other convicts, every one of them laughing harder than the other, as if they have no worries in the world: “There’s a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that that’s all some people have? It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan.” Sometimes laughter is the best medicine. We should never underestimate a comedy’s merit and power. Few comedies are as smart as Sullivan’s Travels, which was made in the time when Preston Sturges was praised as Hollywood’s premier satirist and crafter of social comedies. He “sent affectation and friendliness to the devil and replaced them with satire and cynicism,” wrote François Truffaut. Sullivan’s Travels is unpretentious but remarkably complex, as Sturges proves his skill and ease to steer between moods and genres, always delivering a good punchline just at the right time. Sometimes a good punchline is all we need to make a bad day better.

photo: Joel McCrea and Veronica Lake in Sullivan’s a Travels, 1941 | Paramount Pictures

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The Podcasts I Am Listening to This Fall

On a recent flight I started to catch up with two of my favourite podcasts and discovered another one, too, in the process, so here are the three podcasts (I believe in quality, not quantity) I am planning to keep listening to this fall.
 
The Podcasts to listen to this fall
 
I have been a long-time fan of Racquet magazine, “a journal that celebrates the art, ideas, style and culture that surround tennis”. That’s exactly what I love about tennis, the whole picture, not just the game. And Racquet understands and celebrates that. Beautifully. And now they have their own podcast, hosted by Rennae Stubbs. She’s had some first-rate guests so far, from Kim Clijsters to Judy Murray, but my absolute favourite has been the Chris Evert episode. I love this woman. In a sea of feminism-oriented media I wholeheartedly disapprove of, 18-time Grand Slam winner and mother of three boys Chris Evert gave the soundest piece of advice I have been hearing in a very long time from a public figure: “I feel there is so much emphasis on women and little girls, but let us also add to that men and little boys and mothers who are bringing up little boys, let’s help them out a little bit.” As a mother of a little boy, I want to say: Thank you, Chris.

We seem to forget that we need to raise independent, self-confident boys, too, not only girls. Boys struggle, too. They are vulnerable, too. They are shy, too. They can be introverts, too. They need encouragement, too. They must be taught, too, that there are no two separate worlds, men and women, that we must love and respect each other. That rules are the same, for boys and girls, for men and women, and that whether you are Rafael Nadal or Serena Williams, you must follow the rules (please, do not even get me started on the Serena Williams moment at the US Open – what a crass display of lack of fair play and sportsmanship from both Williams and the American public). Chris, once again, thank you for your sportsmanship, grace, elegance, objectivity and genuineness.
 
The Racquet magazine podcast
 
I very much loved the episode with Judy Murray, too, in which she gives a very straight-forward insight into the world of tennis, advising parents to be prepared for everything the sport demands from their children. She also talks about her admirable efforts in educating a nation (Scotland) of the benefits of sports and an active life (and making tennis more accessible to more people), and also her pertinent and honest thoughts on why there are not more women tennis coaches – I am sure many hasty opinions do not take into consideration that women tennis players prefer to train with men coaches because they see it as a way to improve themselves and become stronger players. I have never played tennis professionally, but I have nonetheless been playing it since I was little and always with boys and later men for that same reason, to better my game. To this day, I have never played once with a girl or woman, and the boys and men I have played with have never complained or treated me as a weaker opponent. What I want to say is that I am sick and tired of this feminist viciousness based on nothing but social networks outrage and diatribe.
 
Fresh Air podcast with Terry Gross
 
Not watching tv (I haven’t for years) has all sorts of benefits I can not praise enough. Besides affording me the time to get things done I would otherwise not be able to squeeze into a day’s schedule and helping my mind stay sane (I believe that 90% of television media is toxic), it has been partly responsible for my discovering Terry Gross’ Fresh Air. I do want to be in the know about the contemporary issues, arts and everything in between, and although I still read the written press, my go-to program remains Terry Gross’ podcast. She is a virtuoso with exceptional range. She interviews everyone from all different industries and backgrounds, from politics to cinema, and does it with such ease and diligence and candour and human touch that there really aren’t other more consistent interviews available on the medium. I have recently started to search the archive of the program and listened to the episode with Matthew Walker, neuroscientist, professor of Neuroscience and Psychology at Berkeley University, and author of the book Why We Sleep, which I am currently reading. I will soon talk about it on Classiq, but, for now, let me just say that it is a book that everyone should read, and that, until you do that, you should listen to Terry’s interview with the author mentioned above.
 
Here's the Thing with Alec Baldwin
 
I have previously heard about Alec Baldwin’s Here’s The Thing, but I haven’t given it a listen until recently. And I couldn’t have started with anyone else but Patti Smith, one of my favourite artists and writers – she never wanted to be a musician, she wanted to be a poet and writer (“Books were my salvation”, she says about the magical worlds she found when reading hundreds of books in her childhood), she tells Baldwin, and what a writer she has become. Just Kids and especially M Train are two of the books I’ve become most fond of in recent years, and Devotion and Woolgathering are waiting on my bookshelf. But what I especially loved about the podcast is that I learned new things about Patti or that she shed new light on certain aspects of her life. “I wasn’t put on the planet to climb the ladder of success, I was put here to do some kind of work.” Then, at a question from the audience asking her about the women who have inspired her, Patti, who had just mentioned Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs and Gregory Corso as her mentors, went on to enumerate a few women, saying that she is truly inspired by many others, but then added: “I love being a girl, but I am partial to fellas.” And that is another thought I would love to be voiced more often in the times we are living. She ended the conversation with a few words about being an artist, naming hardwork and sacrificing happily as most important to the pursuit of being a true artist. “Being a real artist has nothing to do with fame and fortune.”

Another great Here’s The Thing episode was with Viggo Mortensen. A great actor with a low-key, no-star persona, who loves books and who, in 1999, founded his own publishing house, Perceval Press, which publishes indie books (in small-run prints) just for the sheer love of books. What’s not to love about the man? I am now on the mission to listen to as many episodes as possible as soon as possible. Alec is a very direct and lighthearted host and his conversations have that unpredictable factor that makes them genuine and sincere. And that’s one of the best things about his interviews with actors, he just shows us that Hollywood people are “just like everyone else”, as photographer Laura Wilson recently said in my talk with her. His guest range is however much wider than that, from artists to policy makers and performers, and Baldwin sets out “to hear their stories, what inspires their creations, what decisions changed their careers, and what relationships influenced their work.”

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Ready for Autumn: Best Windbreakers in Film

Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry - Best windbreakers in film

Clint Eastwood in “Dirty Harry” (1971) | Warner Brothers, The Malpaso Company

 
As the leaves begin to go earthward and our evenings tend to become more and more homebound, we are slowly regaining our sense of style. Yesterday was the first official day of autumn and it’s time we acknowledged that we must wave summer farewell and start reaching for light layers of clothes, especially on the early crisp mornings. Ah, these crisp early autumn mornings… It just shows you that each season has its own beauty and things to be thankful for. And one of the best things about fall is the way it sharpens your sense of style. I mean, as soon as September 1st rolled in, sandals and shorts became a definite no-no even on those 30-degree C days. And you bet I can not wait to break in one of my favourite menswear-inspired piece, the windbreaker, which I literally stole from my husband, convincing him it was not fair for him to own both a leather bomber jacket and a classic windbreaker, especially that both items look just as good on women as they do on men. But let’s stick to the men for now: here’s an autumnal round-up of the men who have worn this classic jacket best.
 
James Dean in Rebel without a Cause - Best windbreakers in film

Janes Dean in “Rebel without a Cause” (1955) | Warner Brothers

 
James Dean in A Rebel without a Cause (1955)

The windbreaker – also known as a blouson, golf jacket or Harrington (Ryan O’Neal wore a G9 jacket in the TV Series Peyton Place and his character name was Rodney Harrington, hence the jacket’s informal moniker) – owes its appeal in large part to its functionality: it’s lightweight but showerproof. Its style (waist length with its trademark Fraser clan tartan lining, button-fastened slash pockets, zipper that goes up the front to an extended tab on the collar) dates back to 1937, to a garment factory in Manchester, England, where the first G9 blouson under the Baracuta brand name was made. The public service utility garment as well as the official attire of the presidents of the United States to wear on Air Force One, the windbreaker became a menswear staple in the second half of the twentieth century as it was adopted as part of the 1950s teenage uniform and went on to achieve cult status among Ivy Leaguers and Mods alike – everyone from John F. Kennedy to The Clash was fan of the jacket. But nobody contributed to sealing its legendary status more than Hollywood.

“When you first see Jimmy in his red jacket against his black Merc, it’s not just a pose. It’s a warning, it’s a sign,” director Nicholas Ray said about James Dean’s red windbreaker. Ray was a director who paid great importance to colour in his films and the colour red was a conscious decision. For Rebel, he called in a colour consultant and they looked for ideas in old copies of Life magazine. He chose to use primary colours in vivid blocks, creating symbolism through colour and costume. Costume designer Moss Mabry created three copies of the jacket. “Even though it looked simple, it wasn’t,” Mabry said. “The pockets were in just the right place; the collar was just the right size.”

The entire look became iconic – Dean wore the windbreaker almost undone but not quite, allowing that other 1950s youth essential, the t-shirt, to show, and pairing them both with the most democratic piece of all, the washed Lee jeans. It may have been a look in tune with the 1950s – Moss Mabry spent several days at Los Angeles high schools, observing the clothes and styles of teenagers and Nicholas Ray also showed him a picture from Life of a group of college students for inspiration – but it hasn’t aged one bit since. However, it was not just the look, it was something universal in what James Dean transmitted on screen, through looks, attitude and expression, and I believe therein lies his ongoing image as a hero, as an ideal.
 

Steve McQueen in The Hunter 1980 - best windbreakers in film

Steve McQueen in “The Hunter” (1980) | Rastar Pictures

 
Steve McQueen in The Hunter (1980)

The Hunter was Steve McQueen’s final film. Ralph “Papa” Thorson (McQueen) is a modern-day bounty hunter who goes after and captures criminals who have skipped on their bail to bring them back for a 20% of the reward to his bail bondsman employer. A running joke used throughout the film was that Thorson was a bad car driver. But there’s no joke about his dressing style. It’s right up there, where McQueen has always been, among the paragons of men’s style. The jacket McQueen wears in the film is not exactly a windbreaker, but a flight jacket (McQueen, however, often sported a traditional G9 Baracuta blouson off-screen).

The MA-1 nylon flight jacket, as it was officially named, was created specifically for the United States military in the 1950s and its functionality inevitably found a life in civilian service. It came in the standard air force sage green or army olive green, in light, windproof nylon, with chest tabs and sleeve pocket. Steve’s jacket has orange lining (known as Indian or rescue orange), a revision introduced in 1963 to the model (it previously had a sage-green lining), as the jacket was reversible and downed pilots wore their jackets bright side out to be more visible to search and rescue parties. This is arguably the most iconic of all versions of the MA-1, which, thanks to no small degree to Hollywood’s stars like McQueen, has become a classic.
 
Paul Newman in Winning 1969

Paul Newman, Cary Grant and Joanne Woodward on the set of “Winning” (1969) | Universal Pictures, The Newman-Foreman Company

 
Paul Newman in Winning (1969)

In Winning, Paul Newman plays Frank Capua, a rising race car driver who aspires to win the Indianapolis 500. Newman was a winning race driver in real life, too. He loved fast cars, but he arduously avoided the movie star image of expensive sports cars, although his various convertible Beetles were rumored to be equipped with Porsche engines. There is not much to be unforgettable about the drearily predictable Winning, but its leading man’s screen style is not one of those things. Maybe because by now Paul Newman had transcended the characters he played. You almost feel that you are expecting to watch Paul Newman, the man, on screen, especially with Joanne Woodward by his side. And we would expect to see Newman cladded in Ivy League style, as shown here, of which he was one of its most famous adherents. Suede windbreaker, striped sweater, chinos and driving shoes. It doesn’t get any more classic preppy than this.
 
Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry - Best windbreakers in film

Clint Eastwood in “Dirty Harry” (1971) | Warner Brothers, The Malpaso Company

 
Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry (1971)

Mr. Clint Eastwood, I feel I have been unjust to you. I have written about your films a few times, but not about your screen style. It’s time I undid that wrong and put you right up there with all the great male role models men and women alike pour over for style inspiration. And from a style perspective, Dirty Harry was Clint’s defining film. Admitedly, if we have to compare San Francisco cop style in movies, Eastwood’s Callahan has quite some competition from Steve McQueen in Bullitt. But while Bullitt prefers a more casual style, Callahan smartens up his look by wearing his herringbone tweed jacket with a burgundy sweater vest and burgundy/navy Guards tie, slim cut charcoal flannel trousers and his Ray-Ban Baloramas – his choice of sunglasses is in fact very suggestive for his character’s style; I love it how reactionary this choice of shades is, taking the regular idea of “cop” glasses and reinventing it altogether. His aforementioned prep school outfit looks new on him, too, while remaining practical and comfortable. And that’s because Clint carries it with such confidence and all-American cool.

But I would like to pause a little on the brown windbreaker he wears in this production shot above. That’s an American look, too, and he does such a great job again at smartening up an otherwise very casual look, by pairing the brown jacket with black jeans. It just works on him. And I love the colour brown. Why don’t men wear it more often?
 
Daniel Craig in Quantum of Solace - Best windbreakers in film

Daniel Craig in “Quantum of Solace” (2007) | MGM, Columbia Pictures, Eon Productions

 
Daniel Craig in Quantum of Solace (2008)

I have said it before and I will say it again. Daniel Craig makes a damn good modern-day James Bond. I am not debating who the best Bond is. I don’t know whether anyone will ever equal Sean Connery’s popularity, charisma and appeal as James Bond, and I’ve always been partial to Timothy Dalton’s 007. But Casino Royale is my all-time favourite Bond movie. Not only was it a very good film in its own right, but it was new, a new type of Bond film, with a story anchored in reality, stearing away from many James Bond movie rituals, starring my favourite Bond girl ever, Eva Green, and a 007 who was darker, sharper, edgier and colder, but also more human than the earlier Bonds (although Timothy Dalton was truly the first to impersonate a tougher, darker, more serious, but also more vulnerable Bond). But it was in Casino Royale where we really got to see Bond inventing himself.

James Bond’s style has gone through some changes, too, since Daniel Craig took over. That is not to say that, in the days of Sean Connery, Bond’s wardrobe was the exclusive domain of tailored suits. It was not. But the Bond of the 2000s wears jeans for the very first time in Quantum of Solace (2008). Along with them, a jacket inspired by Baracuta’s G9 Harrington nylon jacket, designed by Tom Ford, who created most of Craig’s Quantum of Solace wardrobe. On Daniel Craig, classic and modern merge perfectly.
 
sources: The Ivy Look: An Illustrated Pocket Guide, by Graham Marsh and J.P. Gaul / Icons of Men’s Style, by Josh Sims / Classic Hollywood Style, by Caroline Young / “James Dean Remembered” documentary

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